


Flowers For David

by Skaurple



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Season 2/Episode 4, patricks charming and it confuses david
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaurple/pseuds/Skaurple
Summary: It was a devastating sight to behold; designer jeans ripped, hair once styled to perfection now dishevelled, his sunglasses shattered at impact. Imagine the headlines now!David Rose: a human AND fashion disaster!Also, his arm was broken. He’d notice that tiny detail last.OR David breaks his arm and the town overreacts. He finds peace and quiet at a park and meets a very adorable stranger
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 116





	Flowers For David

**Author's Note:**

> Just finished writing the most angsty and complicated fic I have ever written and I am in need of a fluff cleansing! Here’s my first writing contribution to the Schitt’s Creek fandom :)
> 
> No betas here! Sorry for any mistakes!

Schitt’s Creek, as the name suggests, did not leave much to be desired in terms of overall aesthetic. Visitors are welcomed with an offensive sign too noticeable for its own good and if given the context behind the image, the result is more confusion with a wave of nausea. It’ll be a twenty-minute drive straight ahead until visitors finally reached some civilization-- that being an abandoned shed that’s not actually abandoned but habituated by a fun family of twenty. After hurridly driving past the thriving cult, there will be yet another twenty minutes of dead grass. Seriously, how many fields can one town possibly own? Put a mall there or something, for God’s sake!

The Rose family digressed. The plot of land of nothingness was what they had to function in, whether they preferred it or not. Sure, being one with nature was at the bottom of their bucket list but it was on the list nonetheless.

Alexis embraced the small-town-girl lifestyle once she found out there were men around that weren’t terrible looking. She’d go on walks sometimes if Mutt really wanted to, or a bike ride because, despite the sweat ruining her makeup, it was actually “_kind of like, really fun, right David!?_”

Sure. The awkward wobbling and twisting and shifting was kind of like, really fun until David found himself screaming as he lost control and zoomed towards the end of a steep hill. He lay on the ground-- not unconscious, but very much wanting to be-- and _oh_, it was a devastating sight to behold; designer jeans ripped, hair once styled to perfection now dishevelled, his sunglasses shattered at impact. Imagine the headlines now!_ David Rose: a human AND fashion disaster_! (fashion sense; it was the only thing he had left!)

Also, his arm was broken. He’d notice that tiny detail last.

When living in a town as miniature and uneventful as Schitt’s Creek, the smallest of incidents spread quicker than wildfire. That is why Stevie found herself having to make multiple trips to the motel room of David with potted flowers in hand. “_Condolence flowers_” she claimed them to be with a toothy grin and David groaned, “_Don’t call them that; I’m not dead!_” before rolling his eyes and instructing her to leave them by the steps, along with the twenty other gifted pots.

Despite being very much alive, the motel slowly morphed into some kind of weird vigil for David. Stevie was responsible for placing the picture frame containing a black and white headshot of David, and Moira’s daily cries were mistaken for grief for the son she lost. Bob, just coming back from a weekend vacation and believing David had actually passed, took to the Rose’s doorsteps and lit up a few candles in memory of the poor soul. The Jazza Girls practising their own rendition of “_Amazing Grace_” right by David’s window as he tried to take an afternoon nap had been the last straw in a haystack that wasn't much of a stack to begin with.

Taking a brisk stroll away from the motel, he bumped into a few rando children who wondered if they could sign his cast. He reluctantly allowed them to do so and now, as he continued his stroll, a unicorn danced along his forearm and it was his fault. Soon, he’d find a tattered bench decorated with the initials of some loser preteens to rest on. The buzzing of a few bumblebees by his ear and the bloodsucking mosquitoes making their rounds had David come to realize paintings of parks radiated a more tranquil essence than actual real-life parks. Perhaps he was just being biased towards his deflated career as an artist.

David fluttered his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh. The park was at least different from the rambunctious sounds of New York with its constant construction and angered drivers honking their way to work. Schitt’s Creek was quiet. Peaceful, dare he say.

The interruption of someone twiddling with a wrapper had his eyebrow twitch. The irritating sound stopped for a brief and relieving moment but once it returned, David glared at the source.

The wrapper twiddler who sat at the opposite end of the bench struggled to tare his granola bar open. He paused and gave David a thinned smile once noticing his gaze.

“It’s as if they made these things so people purposely struggled to open them,” said the wrapper twiddler.

David squinted and shook his head, frazzled. “What? Who’s _they_?”

The wrapper twiddler’s smirk faded slowly once he realized David’s confusion was genuine. “Oh.” He blinked. “I mean like, the people who made the packaging for this granola bar.”

Still puzzled, David shrugged. “Okay?”

An awkward silence blanketed over them. The wrapper twiddler cleared his throat before he returned back to his twiddling, and the annoying noises came along with it. He tried every side and every corner yet would only succeed in making ugly creases.

“Oh, my God! Just use your teeth!” David blurted with his restricted hand wanting to wave wildly in the air as his other hand was doing. Stunned by his outburst, the wrapper twiddler stayed silent with widened eyes. David was inclined to elaborate. “Y’know, bite on it! Rip it open!”

The wrapper twiddler’s smirk returned, moreso out of amusement than obligated friendliness. Not knowing how to react, David impatiently snatched the snack out of his hand and hung it by his teeth. He pulled, revealing the grocery-brand granola bar, then hastily passed it back to the stranger.

“Thanks,” said the wrapper twiddler, eyes still focused on the part of David’s face that so graciously helped open his snack. “I’m not sure if I want it now, though.”

“What?” David’s nose scrunched. “Why not?”

“Well, It was basically in your mouth.”

“The wrapper was in my mouth, not the actual chocolate bar.”

“Granola bar.”

“Same thing.” David rolled his eyes. “I have a clean mouth anyway so, no need to freak out.”

When the wrapper twiddler chuckled, David frowned and his thick brows furrowed. It wasn’t clear why he was so offended, he just knew _had_ to be offended because it was his default reaction to situations that were foreign.

David tore his eyes away when he realized he was staring at the wrapper twiddler as he took a bite.

Peace and quiet welcomed themselves back with the dancing leaves from the tree that cast a cool shadow over the bench. The feeling of the sweet summer breeze upon David’s skin had him flutter his eyes shut once again, and a satisfied hum released from his lips.

It was the rustling of a newspaper paper that had interrupted him this time.

“Must you be so disruptive?!” David whipped his head towards the wrapper twiddling turned newspaper rustler. He still had that smug smirk across his stupid little button face but his attention was attached to the pages. “Can you not sense my desperate need to be one with nature?”

“I mean, there are plenty of other benches you can move to,” he responded steadily.

“Yes, but, this one’s placed perfectly under a tree, where the branches cover the scorching sun so…”

“So, you understand why I chose to sit here too?” The newspaper rustler met eyes with David. His words were sharp yet David, under his soft gaze, was almost charmed. Almost.

David only realized he was staring again when the stranger broke eye contact and pointed at his cast. “Did you draw that yourself, or was that a pre-made design you decided to choose?”

He referring to the poorly drawn unicorn. It's pointy horn aligned with David’s middle finger. “It was done by a 3rd grader.”

“Hm. That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Very charming of you to insult a very injured person.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound like he meant it, but David let it slide. “How’d it happen?”

“I was riding a bike and met my tragic demise down a hill. I’m surprised you didn’t know, seeing as how the town has nothing else to gossip about other than my disastrous attempts of trying something new.”

“Oh, I was very much aware,” the stranger admitted, and he turned his newspaper towards David. On the page the headline read; _RIP DAVID ROSE_. “but I was under the impression you died.”

“Oh my-- Are you fucking kidding me?!” David snatched the paper out of his hand and stared in horror. On display was a short article and a photo of his door front crowded with potted flowers. The worst part was, the story wasn’t even on the front page.“This is ridiculous! Does this town not know about fact-checking?!”

“They do actually clarify you’re not dead in the very first sentence, but I guess papers need to be sold,” said the stranger, and here David thought the days of his name being used as clickbait were over. He dragged his not-broken-hand across his face and he slumped down the bench. The stranger continued, “If it helps, the article itself is actually quite endearing. They talk about how your injury has brought the townspeople together. It was unfortunate yet hilarious, and for once, everyone could agree on that single fact.”

“Okay, first of all, nothing is funny about almost dying--”

“The article also goes on to wish you a speedy recovery and hope the flowers will bring you comfort.”

David glanced back down at the newspaper, still with uncertainty looming over his conscience. “I can’t say I totally understand the gifting of condolence flowers,” he confessed, not sure why he’s even admitting this to a stranger. “It makes me feel like I actually died and I’m witnessing the disturbing aftermath.”

The stranger hummed. “Honestly, I don’t know if condolence flowers is the right term for it. The way I see it, the flowers are just a way of wishing you well. A message in the form of a few bouquets that say; hey, David! We care about you, and we are glad that you are okay and alive”

A comforting warmth settled in the pit of David’s stomach at both the sound of the admittedly adorable stranger saying his name, and the equally adorable sentiment he provided. Suddenly flustered, David looked down at his lap and his lips pursed to the side in a lame attempt to hide the grin that was threatening to emerge at the corner of his lips. “I suppose,” he said softly.

Perhaps noticing David’s sudden shift in demeanour, the adorable stranger mentioned, “Did you know, there's a message behind the type of flowers you receive?”

And of course, David had to beg a differ. “False, actually. Those messages were created by corporations in hopes of increasing sales.”

The adorable stranger chuckled again, but this time David kept a prideful smirk on. “Guessing by your last name, you’ve received plenty of roses.”

“Oh,” David scoffed. “you have no idea.”

There were butterflies dancing with the light breeze that the stranger was looking towards. David, suddenly feeling fidgety from not having all the attention of the adorable stranger, fixed the strand of hair resting on his own forehead, and inched closer.

“So, the whole town and you know my name.” That caught his attention back, but David kept his nonchalance despite his restless heart beating quicker. “What’s yours?”

The stranger held out his hand and David was unprepared for the strong grip he’d apply. “Patrick,” he’d answer. “Patrick Brewer.”

* * *

Two days had passed since David exchanged numbers with the stranger in the park yet not a call or text was made or received. Being stuck in his head had him contemplate too hard about whether or not Patrick was being a huge flirt or just being a super nice person because unlike the people David surrounded himself back in New York, the people of Schitt’s Creek were all decent by default.

There was a knock on the door that had David yell for Alexis to answer. She’d complain about how he was closer to the door, and he’d retort by reminding her of his broken arm and how it was her bike that did the damage. Ugh-ing, Alexis opened the door and was greeted by Stevie, holding a small bouquet of lavender roses. They both giggled as they read the note that was attached to the gift, and David was quick to grab it away from them. In cheesy but pretty cursive it read;

_Flowers for David…_  
_Dinner at 6? :)_

_\- Patrick_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If there’s one genre I struggle to write the most, it’s rom-coms (especially the rom part) but twas a fun challenge and I hope you enjoyed reading!


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